As Fate Would Have It
by VoxNexus
Summary: Noatak and Tarrlok were the best of friends, the most loyal of brothers, until they found a vital difference between them that plunged itself deep into their relationship: Noatak's love for bloodbending and Tarrlok's hate for it. And then, there was the pivotal moment that separated the two for good. When their father ordered them to bloodbend each other.


**As Fate Would Have It**

The harsh winter chill seemed to dig into Tarrlok's skin as he bundled up alongside his older brother. As he brushed an annoying tress of hair from his line of sight and tied them back into two ponytails, Noatak spoke to him. "Do you actually plan to bloodbend today?" He asked, the deriding edge underlying the question cutting deep enough to draw out a wince from his younger brother.

"I do," Tarrlok replied, turning so that Noatak could see the sure jerk of his chin.

At this, Noatak scoffed and buttoned up his jacket. "I'm sure father will be pleased," he murmured, a challenging leer forming on his lips as he tied his hair up into a ponytail. After pulling on his boots and slipping on a pair of insulted gloves, Noatak pushed aside the curtain draped at the entrance of their homely igloo; allowing the coarse graze of the wind to ambush Tarrlok from behind as he trailed in the larger shadow of his brother.

As the two made their way out into the sickly cold, they were greeted by the sight of neighboring clans warming up in circles around small fires, delaying the pangs of hunger with thick, moist samples of steamed fish. Some gave the two boys quick waves and threw some polite words at them, others side eyes them suspiciously, their expressions weary.

For as the soft slivers of sunlight would peak up from the horizon, the two Southerners would wake to meet with their father deep into the snow-banked wilderness. It was assumed they trained in waterbending, but for some, the intensity of their training seemed too much. Tarrlok wore the strain of the day's sessions with forlorn pain. Sometimes returning from them with a wear heavy enough to cause him to sway and slouch.

As the boys trudged up and over the crest of a hill, they caught sight of their father turning spits of fish over a roaring circular trench he dug, sizzling with coal and bright with fire. The stern faced man didn't bother glancing up to catch sight of his children plowing through the thick pack of snow towards him; the youngest of the two shivering although tucked tightly in his furs.

"You have eight minutes to eat before training," he coldly quipped as he bit into the swelling belly of a fish stuck through with a stick.

Noatak picked up a branch of his own, the fried fish alive with fumes of smoke rising from its dried, crinkled body. He gingerly pried at the hardened flesh with his teeth, the bones snapping under the pressure of his bite as his prior followed his example. Blowing on the fish in an attempt to cool it before glutting on its meat, sniffling as its warmth billowed through him, combating the weathers uncomfortable frigidness.

In tired silence did the trio finish their morning meal until Yakone stood to stretch and crack the bones in his back to ease its stiffness. He looked down at his sons with a glare, hollow from detachment, his arms crossing over the broad of his chest in a stance meant to intimidate. "Today is going to be a memorable day, for the both of you," he assured, his glower fixed itself on Noatak for a split moment longer than it had on his younger son. He then turned, beginning to walk deeper into the expanse of ice and snow. Soundlessly, his sons followed. The only noise made were the soft crunch of firm snow breaking underneath their weight.

The three shifted through the ankle high snow, guessing what plans their ambitious and angry father had conjured for the days bending practice. As Tarrlok could feel his body begin to slip into a state of premature disorientation, incited by the bone chilling temperatures and testing journey, his father stopped and Tarrlok's slow reflexes brought him tumbling into his brother's back. Coughing with embarrassment, he steadied his footing and righted his posture while taking a deep, calming breath.

Yakone then turned to face his children, his expression unreadable and when he spoke, his tone was emotionless. "Stand across from each other," he instructed.

The boys obeyed, although Tarrlok did so with upsetting hesitance.

"Take five steps away from each other," their father casually added.

Noatak took the required steps back and Tarrlok followed suit, feeling stiff and on edge. There was a gut wrenching feeling entrenched inside of him and the air was beginning to feel heavy with promises of the worse yet to come.

At this point, Tarrlok eyed them both before he turned to Noatak, his expression hostile and eyes gleaming. "Bend him," he ordered. Noatak responded with a quick nod and his expression hardened as he focused his attention on his little brother.

Tarrlok's features suddenly became pinched and the corner of his eyes gathered a sluice of impending tears as he was forced to his knees. It were as if invisible fingers were probing at every single pressure point in his body, weakening him. As if a warrior's hands were locked onto his wrist and ankles, dragging him down onto all fours. Once a shroud of pressure began to gather around Tarrlok's heart, Noatak's face relaxed and the debilitating pain he was inflicting on his brother began to fade, leaving behind a hot throbbing in his veins.

Their father didn't even force a smile but there was an impressed glint in his eyes and a subtle fleck on his lips as he looked upon his eldest son. "Excellent," he said pointedly. He then turned to Tarrlok, looking at him expectantly. "Now, you try," he commanded. Tarrlok's knees almost buckled under him at hearing this.

"No…I- I," the stammering in his voice passed through his entire body, a cowardice tremor.

"You can't what?" Yakone barked, his face reddening and the furrows in his forehead deepening.

Tarrlok took a deep breath and gulped, trying to steel himself and bring his gaze up to that of his father. "I won't bloodbend my brother," he insisted, as a warm tear froze mid-descent on his face. He then cringed, expecting his father to strike out, but all the older man did was yell.

"Can't you see what you are?" He bellowed with clenched fists, "A weakling! A failure!" Tarrlok was fully expecting him to start stomping his feet as his father continued on spewing criticism after criticism in another one of his infamous temperamental episodes. "You are no son of mine! No son of mine is _weak!_" He spat out the last word as if it were poison in his mouth. "Foolish boy," he seethed as he took a step forward and reeled back his hand, preparing to lash out against his son; but the slap never came.

Slowly, Tarrlok opened his eyes and felt struck dumb in awed and terrified silence at the sight of his father writhing and being brought to his knees before Noatak's smaller form.

"He is not the weakling," Noatak corrected, his voice a low rumble. "You are!"

Yakone's arms twisted back, close to breaking. "You say that bloodbending is the most powerful bending form there is. _You lied," _Noatak almost snarled out the words. "The Avatar was able to take away your bending. Now _that _is power." With that, Yakone's body lost its forced tautness and he collapsed into the snow, rasping.

"Brother…" Noatak's tone softened as he spoke, "Let us run away together," his eyes were gentle and pleading. Tarrlok took a step back, shaking his head.

"I-I…can't," the words tumbled out his mouth, weak and empty, poor excuses. Noatak scoffed.

"Dad's right," he affirmed. "You really are a weakling," he turned and ran off into the thicket of falling snow that filled the air like a white fog. His footsteps were lost underneath the quickly forming layers of gather snowflakes shifting in the air as strong mist, making the air look like a white sheet was tenting across the sky.

Tarrlok felt the remainder of warmth in his body flee from him as his father's calloused hand squeezed his shoulder. "He'll be back."

Tarrlok wasn't so sure about that.


End file.
